The Benevent Treasure (19 page)

The morning came, and with it Anna in a flowered wrapper, her lips still swollen from yesterday’s weeping. She had slept uneasily and waked to a new and burdened day. She moved with weighted limbs, the tray she carried was heavy in her hand. She set it down, answered gravely when Miss Silver spoke to her, and went on her way. It took her to the room next door, where Candida should be sleeping, but when she knocked there was no answer. She had in one hand the cup of tea which she had taken from Miss Silver’s tray. With the other she knocked again, after which she turned the handle and went in.

With her first step across the threshold the cup tilted and fell. She stood there, holding the saucer in a rigid grip and staring, not at the broken cup and the pool of tea which spread from it, but at the empty ordered room. The bed was made, and it had not been slept in. As it was now, so it had been when her shaking hands had left it at some time during the dreadful hours of yesterday morning. She remembered that the counterpane had fallen a little crooked at the head, and that she had looked back at it from the doorway and thought, ‘What does it matter? Miss Cara is dead.’ She looked at it now, and saw it was as it had been then. Her eyes moved slowly from the bed to the window, to the bookcase, the hearth, the dressing-table. There was something there — a piece of paper with a line of writing on it. She crossed the room swiftly and set the saucer down. The hand that had held it lifted the paper. The writing was smudged and blotted — a mere scrawl. It ran:

‘Goodbye. I can’t go on.’

Anna continued to look at it until the words began to run into one another. Then she went back by the way that she had come.

This time she did not knock at Miss Silver’s door. She wrenched at the handle and pushed it like a blind woman feeling her way. Miss Silver saw her come. She set down her cup upon the tray and took the paper which was thrust at her.

Anna had begun to shake and to weep again.

‘She is gone! First the one, and then the other! Miss Cara first, and then Miss Candida! But why — oh, Dio mio, why!’

Miss Silver looked gravely at the paper with its shaky scrawl.

‘Is this Miss Sayle’s writing?’

Anna threw up her hands.

‘How do I know?’

‘But you must have seen it. Pray sit down and compose yourself. You must have seen Miss Sayle’s writing.’

‘How should I?’ sobbed Anna. ‘Miss Olivia writes to her — she writes back — it is one letter among all the letters that come! I do not look at them, I do not notice them, I do not know which is from Miss Candida! I only know that she was here, and that she is gone, and that God knows what has become of her, or what is to become of us all!’

Miss Silver was getting out of bed; reaching for the blue dressing-gown, putting on the black felt slippers. She came into Candida’s room with Anna following her, sobbing and talking all the time.

‘The bed! You see no one has slept there! It is the way I leave it! Last night Miss Candida says to me she will turn down your bed and hers and she will put in the hot water-bottles. “You have enough to do without that,” she says. And it is true what she says — there is enough for the one pair of hands! She is so good, Miss Candida — so kind! And Mr. Derek too! He comes out last night, and he says, “Let me help you with the washing-up.” I say, “No, no — Miss Olivia would not like it,” and he says, “Darling, she won’t know.” It is the way they have, these young people, to call everyone darling. It means nothing, but he says it as if he means it, and he stays until everything is finished. He and Miss Candida, they are kind. Why should these things happen?’

Miss Silver let the words go by her.

She went to the bed and turned back the eiderdown. There had been a hot water-bottle in her own bed last night. There was one in this bed now. Does a girl who is going to run away put a hot water-bottle in her bed? She went to and fro in the room. In the end she opened the wardrobe door and spoke.

‘Anna, come here. That is the dress she wore last night, is it not?’

The black dress trailed from its hanger, one shoulder slipping so that it hung askew. Anna caught her breath.

‘Yes — yes — that is what she wore — my poor Miss Candida!’

‘Then what is missing?’

‘The grey coat and skirt — the grey coat — that is what she would wear if she went out. And the little grey hat — it would be in the drawer… No, she has taken it! And the handbag — she has taken that too! And the outdoor shoes — see, here are the ones she wore last night — she would not go out in these! Dio mio! Where has she gone, and why?’

Miss Silver said,

‘If she has gone, then one of the doors would be unlocked, or a window. Wake Mr. Derek and get him to come down with you and try them all whilst I dress.’

But when Anna was gone Miss Silver did not proceed to her own room immediately. She closed the door and then went over to the bookcase and examined it. Strictly speaking, it was not a bookcase at all but a set of shelves fitted into the recess between the fireplace and the wall which took the windows. The shelves ran from the floor to within a couple of feet from the ceiling. A strip of carved wood framed them on either side, and a simulated cornice decorated the top.

Miss Silver stood looking at the shelves. Taking out some of the books, she discovered that there was a wooden backing. Candida Sayle had spoken of waking in the night and seeing first a streak of light, and then the opening of a door in this recess. Shelves with a wooden backing could be contrived to mask a door. Candida might have dreamed of that opening door. She took these two possibilities with her to her own room.

Anna’s return with Derek Burdon found her fully dressed, her hair in neatly plaited coils behind and netted fringe in front. She wore the olive-green cashmere now relegated to morning use, and the warm fluffy scarf, so comfortable, so cosy, which had been her niece Ethel’s present to her at Christmas. Shading as it did from lilac to purple, she considered it not only very pleasing in itself but a delicate tribute to the fact that she was now in a house of mourning.

At the sound of approaching footsteps she made haste to open the door. Derek Burdon was in his dressing-gown, an ornate affair which emphasised his pallor. It appeared that the side door by which Miss Olivia had left was not only unlocked but was actually standing ajar. A handkerchief picked up in the courtyard just outside was soaked by the rain which had fallen during the night. Anna identified it as one of a set embroidered by Barbara Sayle during her long illness. It bore in one corner a finely worked capital ‘C.’

Invited to examine the note which had been found in Candida’s room, Derek stared at the uneven writing and said that, so far as he could tell, it would be hers.

Miss Silver looked at him with grave enquiry.

‘You were working with her upon the family papers. You must have seen her writing.’

‘Well, yes, I have — yes, of course — but not so very much of it. We were mostly sorting — we hadn’t really got to the writing stage. There never seemed to be a lot of time. I say, Miss Silver — you don’t really think — she has — gone away?’

She said, ‘It is too soon to make up our minds about that. What I must do at once is to ring up Mr. Eversley.’

Stephen picked up the receiver and heard her voice. He said, ‘Miss Silver — ’ And then she was saying,

‘Mr. Eversley, can you come out here at once?’

He said quickly, ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘There has been a development. I would like to see you.’

‘Is there anything wrong? Not Candida — ’

The primness of her tone was accentuated.

‘I would rather not say any more over the telephone. I would be glad to see you as soon as possible.’

She rang off. He was left in a state of mounting apprehension.

Miss Silver was half way to the door, when the bell rang again. About to lift the receiver, she changed her mind. She had spoken to Stephen from the study. It occurred to her that his second call might more suitably be answered by Anna. Proceeding to the door, she opened it, and at a glance there Anna was, at no distance at all, her hands clasped at her breast, her whole attitude that of one who strains to listen. With her usual calm, Miss Silver said,

‘Will you see who it is?’ and as Anna came forward, she turned and followed her into the room. Standing beside the instrument she could not only hear Anna’s shaky, ‘Who is there?’ but what was unmistakably Olivia Benevent’s voice in reply. It was quite clear and sharp, and it said,

‘Is that you, Anna?’

‘Yes — yes — ’

‘Why do you speak like that? Is anything the matter? You should really pull yourself together! I am ringing up to say that I find I have left a great many things behind me. Joseph will drive me over during the morning, and you had better be ready to come back with us. Have your own things packed by the time I come, and then you can see about mine. I do not wish to see either Mr. Derek or Miss Sayle — you will tell them so! They must respect my wish to be alone whilst I am preparing to leave Underhill. It has been my home during the whole of my life, and — ’ The hard voice checked for a moment and then went on again. ‘I do not suppose that I shall ever see it again. You will make them understand that I am not to be intruded upon!’

The voice ceased. The audience was over. A little click upon the line announced that the connection had been broken. Anna’s hands were shaking so much that the receiver slipped from them and fell.

In real life there is no ringing down the curtain between the acts. There are moments when such an interval would be more than welcome, but there is, there can be, no such relief. Beds must be made, meals must be prepared, and however reluctantly, some effort must be made to partake of them. Miss Silver’s invariable common sense imposed this point of view. Rooms were aired and tidied, coffee was made and a meal produced. By the time that Stephen Eversley arrived everyone was steadier.

It was Miss Silver who told him what had happened. She showed him Candida’s note and asked him if he could identify the writing, only to hear that he had never seen it.

‘We met practically every day.’ He spoke with stiff lips, his face grey and rigid as he remembered those meetings. ‘We never wrote — we never had to. What does Derek say?’

‘He says it might be hers. He has only seen an occasional note, made when they were working on the family papers, and mostly in pencil.’

‘Miss Silver, you saw her, you talked to her. She didn’t say anything to make you think she meant to go away?’

She let her thoughts go back to that conversation by the fire. Could she truthfully say that there had been nothing to justify the supposition that Candida might have been overcome by a sudden impulse to leave Underhill? She had received a severe shock, a monstrous accusation had been brought against her. Was it probable or even possible that her common sense and self-control had given way and left her at the mercy of a blind instinct for flight? Most unwise, most ill-judged, was Miss Silver’s mental comment. But when did panic regard either judgment or wisdom?

Stephen controlled himself. He could see that she was thinking. He must give her time. When at last she spoke, it was with gravity and kindness.

‘We sat by my bedroom fire and she talked to me for quite a long time. She told me that the Miss Benevents had been very kind until the night of the Deanery party when Miss Olivia struck her. It was while she was talking about this incident that she said, “I didn’t see how I could stay. I meant to leave in the morning as soon as I was dressed, but Anna persuaded me not to. She said it was just Aunt Olivia losing her temper — she was like that, and I wouldn’t hear any more about it. She said Aunt Cara would miss me.” And then she caught her breath and said, “Oh, why did I listen to her — why didn’t I go?” ’

‘She said that?’

Miss Silver inclined her head.

‘I have given you her exact words.’

‘Was there anything else?’

‘I do not think so, except that she spoke of Underhill with distaste. She said it was an old house, and she supposed there must have been happy people in it from time to time, but that Miss Olivia only seemed to remember the ones who had come to a violent end.’

‘What did she mean by that?’

‘You have heard of the Benevent Treasure?’ Then, as he nodded, ‘There seems to have been some belief that it was unlucky to handle it. The two last Benevents to do so did die suddenly and violently.’

‘How?’

‘One was thrown from his horse at his own front door. He received a bad head injury and never recovered consciousness. The other, his grandson, was supposed to have been set upon by footpads. He also received an injury to his head.’

Stephen’s eyes met hers with a look of horror.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I am repeating what was said to me. I asked no questions, because I did not think the moment a suitable one. Nor do I think that this is a moment to explore its possibilities. What we must do, and that without delay, is to effect an entrance into the passages which Candida believed to exist between the walls in the old part of the house.’

‘Passages!’

‘She believed that one of them opened into her room. She told me she had waked in the night to see a streak of light in the recess between the fireplace and the window. There are shelves there, and from her description they may conceal a door. She spoke of someone coming through the room from that direction with a torch held low. It may have been a dream, but it may not. If this door exists, we must locate it without delay. Miss Olivia has just rung up to say that she will be coming over to fetch the rest of her things. If she arrives and Candida is still absent, neither you nor I will be in a position to conduct a search. I think we should lose no time.’

But time was not to be permitted them. They had hardly reached Candida’s room, and Stephen had done no more than take a look at the book-lined recess, when Derek Burdon came knocking at the door.

‘Look here,’ he said, ‘Miss Olivia has just arrived. I was at my window and I saw Joseph drive up. Did you know she was coming over?’

Miss Silver said, ‘Dear me!’ It was the strongest expression she permitted herself. It appeared to be surprised from her, for she made haste to tone it down by saying, ‘Yes, she rang up just now. She must have come straight from the telephone. She spoke to Anna and told her that she would be fetching the rest of her things and taking her back.’

Derek looked relieved.

‘Then we just keep out of the way, don’t you think? By the by, Mrs. Bell hasn’t turned up — the daily, you know. Anna says she wasn’t too keen about stopping yesterday. She was going on about getting mixed up with the police and not liking it. So if Anna is going too, it puts us in a bit of a spot, doesn’t it?’

Miss Silver had opened her lips to speak, when a sound reached them from the passage. Derek had left the door open, and what they all heard was the sound of footsteps. A moment later Olivia Benevent stood upon the threshold looking in. She was in black from head to foot. A deep mourning veil was thrown back. It framed the sallow face and fell in folds about her shoulders. Her black eyes looked from one to the other in a scornful question. The brows above them were arched as if in surprise. She took her time before she spoke.

‘Derek — you are still here? I imagined that you were leaving us… Miss Silver, is it not? Louisa Arnold introduced you, I believe. I hardly expected to meet you here… And Mr. Eversley — I hoped we had made it quite clear that we did not propose to employ you further.’

It was Miss Silver who answered her. She said with quiet composure,

‘I came last night, Miss Benevent, on Miss Sayle’s invitation. It did not seem right to her friends that she should be here without an older woman to countenance her.’

Her calm look met Miss Olivia’s insolent one without giving way to it.

Miss Benevent came a step into the room. ‘In view of what Anna has just told me my plans are altered. Since Candida has seen fit to leave Underhill, there is no occasion for me to do so. I have sent Joseph to fetch what I took away with me. As he and Anna will be here and Mrs. Bell will doubtless return, I shall be well provided with household help and need make no demands upon Miss Silver. As for you, Mr. Eversley, I hope I have made myself clear. Your services are not required.’

Thoughts presented themselves to Miss Silver’s mind. The legal position was known to Miss Benevent. She had left Underhill in that knowledge. The house and its contents had passed to Candida Sayle. If she now returned, what gave her the assurance that the situation had changed? What supported her in the assumption that the field was clear before her, and that Candida would not return? Only such an assumption would warrant the tone she was now adopting. She said with something more than her usual dignity,

‘In all the circumstances, I think you must agree the police should be informed that Miss Sayle has disappeared.’

Stephen said, ‘Miss Silver — ’

Olivia Benevent gave a short laugh.

‘And do you suppose she will thank you for that? It is obvious that Mr. Eversley does not think so. Ring them up by all means if you think it wise. I imagine they will arrive at the same conclusion that I do myself. I have made no secret of the fact that I believe the girl to be responsible for my sister’s death. Anna tells me that she left a note which practically amounts to a confession — “I can’t go on. Goodbye” or some such matter. I am afraid I shall be obliged to think very poorly of your intelligence if you do not conclude, as I do, that she has felt unable to brazen it out any longer. The police had been put on their guard, I myself had accused her, and she has, quite simply, run away. If you wish to use the telephone you can do so, but after that I must ask you to leave the house.’

‘Miss Benevent — ’

Stephen had got no further than that, when Miss Silver’s hand was laid upon his arm. It was to him that she spoke.

‘I do not believe that any useful purpose will be served by continuing this conversation.’ She addressed herself again to Miss Olivia. ‘I think the police will wish to see those of us who spent the night here. Neither I nor Mr. Eversley accept what you suggest with regard to Miss Sayle.’

Derek Burdon had effaced himself. With Miss Olivia’s advance into the room, he had edged his way towards the door. When Miss Silver and Stephen emerged he was waiting for them.

Three miles away in Retley Inspector Rock was called to the telephone.